Dirty Laundry
by Mickleditch
Summary: Rick's secret isn't very much of a secret any more. Rick objects to this slightly less than he expected to. [Rick x Vyv, crossdressing]


Disclaimer: all characters belong to Rik Mayall, Ben Elton, Lise Mayer and the BBC.

* * *

"FOR THE LAST TIME, VYVYAN," Rick screams, as Vyvyan crashes through his door, slamming it so heavily against the wall that the nearest shelf gives a frightened shudder and deposits Rick's shrine to Karl Marx all over the floor, "If you don't stop trespassing, I'm walking straight down those stairs to telephone Mr Balowski! And I think that you'll find that everyone's right to peaceful enjoyment of their property is down there in black and white in our tenancy agreement!"

Vyvyan debates this for an extremely short length of time. "I ate our tenancy agreement."

Rick rats inwardly. "Yes, well, anyway - I know that you've been trying to catch me with a dress on all week, and for your information, it's very healthy to be in touch with your feminine side!"

"Yeah, and with a side that feminine, I bet you touch it all the time."

"Look, I don't want to discuss this any more! It's completely and totally normal, so just get out of my bedroom!"

"It's completely and totally normal, Rick, if you're a sissy, girly poof." Kicking the door to again behind him, Vyvyan stomps a few steps closer, and half-regards, half-leers at Rick with a strangely intense interest. "D'you call yourself a girl's name when you're wearing a dress?"

Rick forces a bark of sarcastic laughter, or as close as he dares to get to one without having an easily accessible escape route. "No, Vyvyan, I don't!"

"What else d'you do, then? Wear lipstick? Put on a girly voice?"

"I'll have you know that it's perfectly possible to carry on a daily routine and still enjoy expressing the more sensitive side of one's nature by -"

"Dressing like a girl," Vyvyan offers.

"Well, I'm obviously pretty successful at it, aren't I, seeing as most of the time you don't even _know!"_

Rick's barely snapped off the words before he's gripped by a sort of sinking terror and the instant awareness that he might just, possibly, have dropped himself even deeper in it than he already was. Mostly due to the way that Vyvyan's eyes slowly light up, and the way that they travel so deliberately down Rick's body that Rick starts to feel as if he might as well be standing there starkers.

"You're doing it now, aren't you?" Vyvyan says.

All of Rick's defiance seems to have evaporated like afternoon mist under Vyvyan's stare. He hesitates, then, fractionally, he nods.

"Are you wearing knickers, Rick?"

"Yes."

"Are you wearing _girls'_ knickers, Rick?"

_"Yes!_ You bloody know I am!"

Vyvyan moves a bit closer. "I'm going to write that you wear girls' knickers and pin it on the student notice board at college."

"You're ruddy not!" Rick hisses.

"Why would it bother you? It's _normal!"_

"Vyvyan, number twos are normal, but I don't want pictures of my bottom on the board either!"

Vyvyan smirks, very slightly. He looks thoughtful, in a way that Rick's only ever seen once before, the time when Vyvyan had decided to remodel the house using Neil as the foundations. "You don't want me to do it?"

"No," Rick says. He wonders where this is going and what kind of pain it's going to sooner or later result in. I don't. I really don't. Please," he adds, sounding a bit whiny even to his own ears, but not caring terribly much any more.

Vyvyan's smirk widens. "Give us a look, then."

Rick's jaw drops. "I beg your pardon?"

"Give us a look," Vyvyan repeats. He moves closer still. Every time he breathes out now, the little snort of air buffets Rick's nose and cheeks, and it gives him a very specific feeling that seems to trickle over his skin and pool low in his stomach. "You show me what knickers you've got on now, and I won't tell anybody."

"That's blackmail, Vyvyan!"

"Yeah," Vyvyan agrees.

"I do _not_ give in to blackmail!"

Vyvyan shrugs. "Student board it is, then."

_"No!_ Wait!" Rick almost reaches out, then balks, biting at his lip, some small part of him realizing how desperate he must have sounded. He squirms. This is his worst nightmare come pants-wettingly true. And yet there's something - something about him wearing what he's wearing and it being all dirty-sexy and secretive, and Vyvyan standing there in front of him _knowing about it -_

"Changed your mind?"

"Look, why d'you want to see them, anyway?"

"'Cause I'm a bastard. And I really like taking the piss out of you. And I want to find out which sort you like wearing and how much of a poof you are."

"What difference does it make?" Rick feels a bit like having a panic attack, and a bit like trying to knee Vyvyan in the crotch and then running, but Vyvyan is more agile than you'd imagine just by seeing him stomping around with various drills and sledgehammers, and Rick doesn't rate his chances of making it out of the room.

"Days of the week, bit poofy. Pink, really poofy. French knickers, total and utter bent girly poof."

"Well, I've fooled you, haven't I, Vyvyan? Because actually you're completely wrong, and they aren't any of those things, so you think you know everything about me but you don't at all!" And then Rick stops, very suddenly, as he sees Vyvyan's smirk still growing.

"Prove it."

Vyvyan's gaze focuses to a quite disturbing degree on Rick's hand as he dips towards the fly of his jeans. Oh, he can't do this! He's absolutely, definitely going to die, probably from a brain aneurysm from all the blood he can feel heating up his face. "Vyvyan, please. Can't I be your slave for a week instead? I'll give you all my money for lager! I'll clean SPG's cage with my tongue!"

"Get 'em off, Rick, or it's the board on Monday morning."

Helplessly, Rick plucks at his top button. As he does, he makes the monumental error of looking, of following the path of his fingers, and it's somehow only then that he becomes consciously aware of one small fact, a second before Vyvyan gleefully announces it.

"You've got a stiffy."

Rick jerks away from his button like he's been scalded, clamping both hands over his groin instead. "I have not!"

"Have!"

_"I bloody well haven't!"_

"You bloody have. Unless that's a couple of socks that you stuff down there and not your little girly willy."

"Well, that's a bit of a contradiction in terms, isn't it, Vyvyan?" Perhaps it might stop if he lies to himself, Rick thinks, frantically. Perhaps if he tells himself that he's just imagining the pressure against the seam of his jeans and that he doesn't like any of this, or anything about how Vyvyan is looking at him, one bit, it might go away.

"No." Vyvyan is now positively grinning. "'Cause everything about you's girly. Which is why you're wearing those knickers. That I still can't see."

"For Heaven's sakes, Vyvyan! I can't believe you're doing this to me!"

"You can believe anything you like, Rick, but you're definitely not going to stop."

Almost cringing, Rick slides one hand beneath the other and pops the first button out of its hole, then the next. He doesn't think he can get any more flushed, and the brush of his fingers is just making him harder. And now he's got to let Vyvyan look, and _everything's_ going to be obvious. His hands feel strangely uncoordinated as he peels open his flies.

Vyvyan's grin doesn't diminish, but it gets a different edge to it. He goes marginally quieter. "Bloody hell," he says, after a moment.

"Is that _poofy_ enough for you, Vyvyan?"

"Yeah. Let me touch?"

_"What?_ No!" Rick makes a last-ditch attempt to slap Vyvyan's hand away, but Vyvyan's already pushed past him to tug at the elasticated froth of lace that makes up the waistband and is feeling the black silk lower down. Squealing in shock, Rick backs up, only to corner himself between the wall and the bedside table.

"Are you going to get your trousers down, bogey-bum, or do I have to do it for you?"

"In a minute! Just give me a minute, will you?" Breathing rather harder than he's happy letting his housemate know about, Rick wiggles open the remainder of his buttons and pushes his jeans over his hips. He hasn't had to do that in front of anyone since he was in the headmaster's office at school, and he's pretty bloody certain that he's _never_ done it with a hard willy. He's painfully aware of how the clingy material's making it look even more prominent.

"Are you happy now, Vyvyan? Is my utter humiliation complete enough for you?"

Vyvyan shakes his head, making his bike chain swing a bit. "No. I'm still looking forward to that."

"I suppose you want me to show you my bottom as well, is that it? I think that a lot of people would be starting to ask themselves who the real _poof_ around here is!"

"You're the poof. Poof." Vyvyan gets up in Rick's face again. His hips come perilously close to bumping against Rick's shivering, straining ones, and, to Rick's distress, his willy enthusiastically responds to the near miss by sticking out so anarchically that he could have hung a black flag on it. Vyvyan looks revoltingly smug.

"Go on, then. Wank it."

Rick's jaw drops for the second time. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Start playing with yourself. And make sure you keep your knickers on, too. I want to watch you get them good and sticky."

Despite his fright, Rick's traitorous stiffy still refuses to go down. In fact, if anything, it gets even harder. He _can't_ be enjoying this, he just can't be! And now his tip is rubbing against the silky panel of his knickers in a way that's nearly enough to make him see baby Jesus and all the saints who he can't remember any of the names of. Rick tries crossing his legs, but that just makes it even worse. He whimpers pathetically; has one more last go.

"Please, Vyv, pretty please!"

Vyvyan pokes him in the chest, apparently indifferent to how Rick's very nearly poking him back. "Get on with it, you big bottom boil. Or I'm telling Mike and Neil tonight instead of Monday."

Swallowing hard, Rick brings a hand back up, shivering across the hem of his shirt and pausing on his stomach. His fingertips reach the top of the knickers and edge along the lace. _Oh, Cliff, he's close already!_ There's a distinct wet patch growing on the front where he's starting to leak, and he feels so hot he's sure he might suddenly undergo spontaneous combustion. The knickers feel too tight and constrictive, and part of Rick _really_ wants them off.

He pushes his hand into the fabric, and immediately mewls in both discomfort and arousal at the contrast of the friction of his hand and the slippery tug of silk on his by now ridiculously sensitive willy. He can't believe that he's doing this, with Vyvyan staring at him, with Vyvyan's breath still puffing over his burning face. He grips himself spastically and begins to stroke up and down.

"Yeah," Vyvyan says, "go on." He makes a movement that could have been an attempt to press against Rick, or just an attempt to get at the right angle for a better look into his knickers.

Either way, it gives Rick a surge of excitement unlike anything he's ever experienced before. His lips are getting dry and numb, and he's throbbing so hard that it almost hurts to keep going. He hears a moan, and wonders vaguely where it's coming from before realizing in abject horror that it's him. Vyvyan's tones grate into his ear and all the way down Rick's body to finish in his toes.

"Enjoying yourself, are you? Bet you're going to have wet dreams about this all night. Pervert."

"That's rich, isn't it? From the - from the _pervert_ who wanted to look in the first place -"

Rick breaks off, gasping, as his hand accidentally twists on the turn and his thumb slides hard over the little knot under the head of his willy. The jolt of pleasure, coupled with the shameful thrill and having another body next to his - _Vyvyan's_ body - has him wondering how much longer he's going to be able to hold on. He's got no idea how people actually _have sex_ without exploding. He squeezes himself, and almost sobs. "I've got to stop! I don't want to... _please_ let me stop!"

"Don't you bloody dare. You're going to toss yourself off and show me how much you like it."

_"Ohbloodybuggeringhell!"_

"And then you're going to show me how wet your girly knickers are," Vyvyan says, his voice all rough with half laughter and half something else.

Rick tries his best to call him a bastard, but can't. Instead, he hears himself make a sort of choking noise as his head tilts back and he keeps going over that amazing spot. It feels so incredible that it sends tingles racing down his spine, the silk flooding his skin with a shudder of sensation as he moves. His nipples are standing out painfully through his shirt, and the noise that his slippery willy's making against his palm sounds absolutely_ filthy_ and much, _much_ too sexy.

"I've got to stop, Vyvyan! I've got to stop _NOW-!"_

"Are you joking? I'm not bloody well missing this!" Vyvyan pinches the inside of Rick's thigh, hard. "Come on, Rick, you girly bastard, let's hear you scream."

Rick yelps in pain, and then immediately gasps as the sting morphs into something insanely pleasurable. _Too_ pleasurable, he thinks, wildly. It's too much! His legs begin to shake out of control as he wanks himself harder and faster, until he feels the unmistakable warmth starting in his bollocks and rushing up the length of his willy.

He only gets another split second of warning, just barely enough time to grab his housemate's 'Very Metal' jacket with his free hand, before he absolutely soaks the lacy, silky thing between his legs in a series of erratic squirts and the most violent thankyouGodCliffandbastardingVyvyan orgasm that he's ever had in his life.

His skin tingles as he moans and writhes his way down from it. He hasn't felt anything like that for so long. At all, really. It's only as he pants himself back to earth that Overwhelming embarrassment starts to mingle with and crowd out the rapidly fading ecstacy. He does, however, vaguely register that he's still clutching Vyvyan's jacket like his life depends on it, and that Vyvyan hasn't yet thumped him for it.

Actually, Vyvyan hasn't stopped grinning, either, and he looks both disgusted and delighted at the same time, like he's just managed to throw up a curry in particularly spectacular fashion all over Rick's bed. And as Rick stands there all wanked out and red-faced and squelchy-willied, trying to work out how he got where he is and exactly how he feels about it, Vyvyan just makes it even more confusing by shoving his face into Rick's neck and breathing hot over his skin before biting down.

"Poof," he says, with immense satisfaction.

And for once, Rick really can't find it in himself to disagree too vehemently with that.


End file.
